


you'll reach up (and you'll rise again)

by hopeless_hope



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, But mostly angst, Flash is a dick, Grief/Mourning, Humor, NOT STARKER - Freeform, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Teacher Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark as a high school teacher, Whump, but what's new, wow i love projecting my feelings onto Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/pseuds/hopeless_hope
Summary: After witnessing the death of his uncle, something in Peter dies, too. But a new teacher with the most unconventional methods and an eye for talent just might be able to teach Peter what it means to live again.orPeter is a grieving kid and Tony is an oddly perceptive and very goofy teacher.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "You Will Be Found" from Dear Evan Hansen.
> 
> Story inspired by @myglassesaredirty, who is actually my idol.

“Oh, Peter, I can’t believe you’re a sophomore already!” May says tearfully, a hand resting on his cheek. He shrugs away, swatting at her hand gently. She smiles at him, both wistful and proud. He knows what she’s thinking.

_Ben is supposed to be here._

Peter swallows thickly and tries to shove the thought as far back as he can. Instead, he puts on a convincing smile as he says, “I’ll be fine, May! Ned and I already compared schedules, and we have like three classes and lunch together. Plus, I have two classes and decathlon with MJ. I’m excited.”

The relieved look that washes over May’s face is almost worth it. He’s not lying; he _does_ share those classes with his friends. But he’s certainly not excited. Peter can’t really remember the last time he was excited about anything.

Actually, he can. But he refuses to think about it.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. I’m not working the night shift, so I’ll be home just before dinner. I was thinking we could change it up a bit and get Indian instead?” May suggests, referring to their usually tendency to get Thai food.

Peter smiles and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sounds good. Now come on, I gotta get to school sometime in the next decade.”

May pouts but laughs good-naturedly and squeezes his cheeks teasingly. “My little baby is all grown up. But hey,” she says, suddenly serious. “You call me if you need me. For anything.”

Peter nods and tries not to think about how the only thing he really needs is the one thing May can’t give him.

“Of course,” he says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. “Bye May! Love you.”

She gives him one last tearful hug, and Peter’s quick to make his escape after that.

He makes it to school quickly, not looking forward to walking the halls again. He knows that news about Ben spread throughout the student body over the summer, and he’s not particularly ready to face the looks of pity.

Luckily, when he arrives, most people are just preoccupied with comparing schedules and meeting up with friends, so he’s able to make it to his and Ned’s locker with no trouble.

“Peter!” Ned greets enthusiastically. “For a minute there, I thought you weren’t coming. Whew, I was worried I’d have to put up with Flash all alone.”

Peter grimaces at the name. “How do you know he’s in our classes?”

Ned rolls his eyes. “I overheard him bragging about him being placed in the advanced calc class, which means he’ll also be with us for physics and intro to engineering.”

“Sucks,” Peter says, pulling textbooks out of his locker. “Speaking of calc, MJ mentioned that the teacher this year is new to the school?”

“Yeah. Hopefully this one actually knows what he’s doing. Apparently last year, Davis was so ready for retirement that she just gave up on teaching,” Ned comments.

“I mean, mood. But anyway, I better get to English. I’ll see you at lunch,” Peter says, giving Ned a quick wave goodbye.

Once his friend is out of his sight, Peter relaxes significantly. He always feels tense these days, especially when he’s around other people, even if those people are his friends. Trying to be happy is exhausting, but nobody wants to be around someone who’s sad all the time, so Peter does his best.

He walks into his English class, and a hush doesn’t quite fall over the room, but it’s a near thing. Peter ducks his head down, so he doesn’t have to see the stares and tries his best to ignore the whispers of, “Did you hear his uncle died last month?”

He slides into the desk that sits in the far back of the room and starts methodically putting a notebook, planner, and some pens onto his desk just to give himself something to do. Mostly he’s just glad no one has tried to talk to him. He’s just about sick of condolences.

A few minutes later, his teacher walks into the room and greets the class. Peter just sighs.

It’s going to be a long year.

* * *

By the time lunch rolls around, Peter’s about ready to scream. Though most people are still distracted by the novelty of seeing their friends in school again, the rest of his classes had been much like his first: full of hushed whispers and stolen glances in his direction when they think he can’t see.

He makes his way to the corner table of the cafeteria, relieved to see MJ and Ned already waiting for him.

“Hey,” he greets, dropping his bookbag carelessly.

“Wow,” MJ comments. He just raises an eyebrow at her. “I mean, it’s only been half a day and you already look ready to fling yourself off a cliff.”

“You have no idea,” Peter mutters. At Ned’s worried look, he hastily adds, “I’ve already been assigned two essays! I’m dropping out.”

Ned’s face falls into a look of sympathy. “I feel you, man. I have to have seventy vocab words memorized for Anatomy by next week.”

MJ just gives them a bored look. “You guys are weak.”

“But the cost of being strong? Too much,” Ned says dramatically and Peter smiles. Despite how distant he’s been from everything lately, he’s missed being around the strange, casual banter of his friends.

As Ned and MJ dive into a playful back and forth banter, Peter just lets himself listen, the familiarity of it all soothing him. He picks mindlessly at his food without actually consuming any of it; he hasn’t had an appetite since Ben died.

When the bell rings, the three of them make their way to Calculus, and just like he did in all his other classes, Peter immediately shoots for the very back, MJ and Ned following suit. The teacher isn’t there yet, so everyone’s taking the time to talk among themselves.

Flash walks in and surveys the room, eyes locking briefly with Peter’s. However, rather than making his way forward to harass Peter as he typically does, he averts his eyes and saunters to the most front and center desk.

Peter swallows down the bitter taste in his throat. _I finally got Flash to stop bullying me, and it only took Ben dying to do it._

A sudden hush falls over the room, and Peter belatedly realizes the teacher has finally walked in, a mere minute before class is due to start.

The man is an odd mixture of casual and formal, wearing dark blue jeans and a t-shirt with a suit jacket thrown over it. He’s can’t be much older than forty, and he has an air of unquestionable confidence about that immediately demands respect.

He stops in front of everyone and surveys the students thoughtfully. After a moment of thought, he says, “Alright, everyone, stand up. I want everyone at the back of the room in the very front, those in the front to the middle, and those in the middle to the back.”

A collective groan sounds through the room, and for a moment, everyone shuffles past each other in confusion. Peter exchanges a glance with Ned and MJ, who just shrug and sit with him in the first row.

Peter hates how exposed he feels out in the front like this. It feels like the eyes of everyone in the room are glued to him, even though he knows logically that that’s not the case. Still, his skin itches with anxiety.

Satisfied, the teacher tucks his hands into his front pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Wonderful. So, you’re all probably wondering why I had you do that, right?” When everyone nods, looking entirely resentful – and oh man, what Peter wouldn’t give to see the look on Flash’s face right now – he continues speaking.

“You see, I know how this goes. You walk into a room on the first day of school, and you immediately sit where you’re most comfortable,” he says, studying each of the students. “But learning isn’t always comfortable. Actually, we learn the most in situations where we’re _uncomfortable_. It’s a small adjustment, and over the course of the year, I’ll have you change seats several times to help push you into working with different people.”

Interesting. Peter looks over and sees MJ looking at the man in something that’s fast approaching approval, and Peter thinks that maybe they’ve actually got a good teacher this year.

The man claps his hands once and sits casually on the bar stool placed in front of the white board.

“Anyway, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Mr. Stark, but we’re not going to call me that because _dammit, I’m not old yet!”_

The class lets out a laugh, and he smiles. “Just call me Tony. Or, if you can think up of a decent nickname suggestion, feel free to submit it for approval via the mason jar on my desk labeled ‘Nicknames.’ I should probably warn you, though, every single year, someone tries to submit ‘T-Dawg’ and it always gets rejected, so don’t even bother trying.”

Peter quirks his lips in amusement, glancing at MJ to see that even she’s finding it hard not to laugh at the charismatic man.

“Now, I don’t really like rules – mostly because I tend to break them anyway – but I do have a few for you. One, ask questions. Please. The only stupid question is the one you don’t ask. Two, don’t make people feel like shit if they don’t understand something. I don’t tolerate bullying of any kind, ever. And three, come to class ready to learn and be open-minded. This _is_ an advanced class, after all. Calculus is fun, but you have to be willing to make it fun. Capiche?” Tony asks.

Everyone nods eagerly.

“Awesome. Now, a few things. See that door in the back?” he asks, and everyone swivels around to look at it. Hanging on it is a sign that reads ‘Salvation Station.’ “Now, it may seem like just an ordinary closet, but you’ve probably already picked up on the fact that I don’t really _do_ ordinary.”

Tony walks to the back of the room and opens the door, flipping the light switch on inside to reveal a rather spacious closet. From what Peter can see, there are blankets on the floor and stringed lights hanging down one of the walls, plus a little couch and a couple comfy-looking chairs.

“This is what I call the ‘Salvation Station.’ The world isn’t always going to grant you breaks, but safe spaces are important. Each of you gets three free passes for the year to spend five minutes in here during the class. If you’re overwhelmed or need five minutes to finish your homework because you overestimated your ability to procrastinate and get things done, or even if you just need a moment to breathe and listen to your favorite song – you can use a pass and I won’t ask any questions.”

From the back, Flash raises his hand. “Yes, Mister - ?”

“Thompson,” Flash says pompously. “Flash Thompson. Not to sound rude, but why only five minutes? I mean, it just seems like a shame to have such a nice space set up that can only be used for five minutes.”

Tony nods at the question. “Fair point. I guess I should go ahead and add that it’s also open to anyone before school, during lunch, and after school, depending on my schedule – no pass needed. By the way, you can also ask questions and get help during those times too.”

Everyone nods, exchanging excited looks, and Peter can feel the anticipation in the air, a far cry from the usual boredom that plagues students in class during the first day of school as teachers go over the syllabus and ground rules.

“Any other questions?” A pause. “No? Alrighty then.”

Tony makes his way back to the front of the room and picks up a stack of papers off his desk.

“And now, the moment I’m sure you’ve all been waiting for: a pre-test!”

Everyone groans miserably, the good mood instantly dampened.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll be happy to hear this one doesn’t count as a grade. I just need to see exactly where you’re at. You guys thought you were going to get out of having to do actual math on the first day, didn’t you?” Tony smirks evilly. “No such luck. You can begin whenever.”

Feeling a spark of excitement, a feeling almost foreign to Peter since Ben died last month, Peter flips his test open and begins.

Maybe, just maybe, this year won’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah, look who's starting a story that may or may not ever get finished! We LOVE that. Anywho, I'll try my best to actually keep up with this. Let me know what you guys think so I know whether or not to even bother continuing with it.
> 
> Tony is largely based off my band director in high school, who really helped me a lot and provided a safe space for me when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, so half of this story will probably just be me projecting some of that angst onto Peter. I wanted to make Tony a physics teacher, but I don't remember physics as much as calculus, so here we are.
> 
> Comment and kudos are very much appreciated, and you can always come yell at me on tumblr @the-great-escapism! Thank you so much for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Heads up that this chapter is short and it sucks. In the future, I'll try to aim for 2,000-3,000 words per chapter, but I was really struggling. More on that down below.

“So how was your first day of school?” May asks, dipping her naan bread into the curry.

“It was great,” Peter says, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible as he picks at his food. He feels bad, but he hasn’t had much of an appetite since Ben died. _Having your uncle’s blood on your hands will do that to you,_ Peter thinks darkly. “It was good to see Ned and MJ again.”

May seems happy at the news. “Oh, that’s wonderful. You should have them over for a movie night at some point.”

Peter just smiles and makes a half-hearted noise of agreement.

“Anything else interesting happen at school? Did anyone give you a hard time?” May asks seriously.

Peter shakes his head. “Um, a couple people offered their condolences,” he mutters, swallowing the bitter taste of the words, because frankly, he doesn’t really want their condolences. He doesn’t _deserve_ them.

May’s gaze softens, pain shining through her eyes, and Peter hastily changes the subject. “But yeah, so English is boring. As usual. Intro to Engineering seems like it’s going to be easy, because a lot of it was touched on in robotics.”

“That’s good! I was worried about all the harder classes you’re taking this year, so it’s nice to know you’ll have a bit of a break from all the rigor,” May comments. Peter nods.

“Yeah, I can already tell Calculus and physics are going to be hard. Oh, but my calc teacher seems really cool. He seemed kind of stern and scary at first, but it turns out he’s really funny. He has this thing called the ‘Salvation Station’ where we can go for a little bit if we ever just need a break from anything. We get three passes for the year to use it,” Peter explains as he nibbles at a piece of butter chicken.

May makes an interested noise, swallowing her food before saying, “That’s so awesome. It’s great to know there’s finally a teacher who cares about the mental wellbeing of his students just as much as the academic side.”

“Mhm!” Peter says, and he’s glad to see that May’s face has relaxed, no longer quite so worried about him. _Good,_ Peter thinks. _She shouldn’t stress over me._

When they get back to the apartment, May collapses on the couch and absentmindedly flips through channels on the television, savoring the rare evening spent at home and not at work. Peter quietly slips into his room and pulls out his planner for school.

There’s not much assigned yet, so Peter scans through the syllabus of each subject. Most people would probably think he’s crazy, but he’s been dying to get back to having schoolwork. Anything to keep his mind off of ~~blood crying death~~ everything.

He needs to read _The Crucible_ for English, but that doesn’t technically need to be done for another month, and he doesn’t own the book, so he puts that on his to-do list for later.

There’s not really anything to do, so Peter puts some headphones in and takes out an old Walkman he’d found the other day. He’s been trying to fix it up, since it doesn’t seem to want to read any discs, and it’s good for Peter to keep his hands and mind busy.

(If he doesn’t think, he won’t have to remember.)

He glances at the clock, groaning when he realizes it’s only eight. Pulling out his tiny screwdriver and pliers, he settles in and steels himself for a long night of working, determined to have the old tech fixed and usable by the end of the week.

And if he only gets two hours of sleep? Well, May never needs to know.

* * *

Every single day, when Peter wakes up, he gets frozen in a moment where his brain forgets that Ben is gone. Forgets that the only color he sees now is red, forgets that he’ll never get to feel Ben’s calloused hands ruffle his hair affectionately again.

But then he remembers, and it’s like getting the breath knocked out of him.

He wonders if May ever feels the same way. (He’d never ask. He wouldn’t be able to face her answer anyway.)

School, Peter’s found, has been an effective distraction. Just like May’s thrown herself into her job, Peter throws himself into his school work. People still look at him, whispers that ghost through the halls, and he knows they talk about him.

His teachers know, too. It makes sense. They’re typically made aware of special circumstances, and apparently losing your third guardian files under that category. Needless to say, Peter hates it.

He knows his teachers mean well, but they’ve all been almost _too_ kind to him, some even going so far as to pull him aside and let them know they’re always there for him if he needs to talk about _anything._

(But Peter knows he’d never. He doesn’t deserve salvation.)

The only teacher that doesn’t treat him differently from the other students or make any indication they know of Peter’s situation is Mr. Stark.

On a totally unrelated note, Mr. Stark is his favorite teacher.

The man is an oxymoron, animated yet professional, lighthearted with the capacity to be so serious. His way of teaching is incredibly articulate and concise, incorporating many jokes into his lectures to lighten the stress that comes from the rigorous course.

Mr. Stark is quickly becoming famous for his tendency to break into random rants.

“Who hates Mondays?” he asks abruptly in the middle of class one day. When a good majority of the class raises their hand, he scowls.

“Ridiculous. MJ,” he petitions, “You didn’t raise your hand.”

She shrugs, looking bored. “I mean, me hating Mondays isn’t going to change anything. I still have to get up and spend time with these hooligans in this hellhole for a week.”

Tony gestures wildly at her. “Thank you! Finally, a sane person. I, personally, don’t get the whole ‘I hate Mondays’ thing. It all seems wildly discriminatory, don’t you think? Monday can’t help that it comes right after the weekend,” Tony stresses, as though the day as feelings.

The class laughs, becoming used to their teacher’s weird pet peeves.

“Anywho,” he says, already moving on to the next topic. “What have we here?” he asks, picking up the mason jar on his desk. “Nicknames are always exciting.”

He opens the jar, taking out the two pieces of folded paper, waggling his brows and humming in mock suspense before he reads them. Everyone waits with baited breath as he scans the first one and then promptly groans dramatically.

“I cannot believe my own two eyes! ‘T-Dawg,’” he reads in exasperation. The class bursts into laughter as he crumples the paper and tosses it smoothly into the trash can.

“If I knew who submitted that, I’d take five points off your next quiz,” he jokes, before going to read the other one. “Ah ha! This is the kind of shitty humor I signed up for when I became a high school math teacher. ‘Tony Stank.’ I see you guys are losing your shyness with me,” he comments, only to be met with more scattered chuckles.

Peter glances at MJ and sees her sketching idly in the margins of the worksheet they’ve been working on, but something about her posture seems a little _off_ to Peter. Forced, almost. As if sensing his gaze, she looks up at him and smirks, and he realizes with a jolt that she’s definitely the one that submitted that nickname.

He can’t help but let out a laugh, and when Tony sends a look in their direction with a twinkle in his eyes, Peter knows he knows.

When the bell rings, Peter’s disappointed.

* * *

Peter has a system. Albeit an unhealthy one, but it’s a system that works nonetheless. When he’s at school or around other people, he needs to compartmentalize. The focus, he makes sure, is continuously shifted away from himself, and he does his best to be as snarky and dorky as he always was before.

But when he’s alone? Different story.

When he’s alone, he lets himself pretend that Ben’s still around. Usually, May’s not home until late, and she’s terrible at cooking anyway, so he usually makes dinner and leaves a plate covered in tin foil for her.

Peter always turns on Ben’s favorite jazz CD while he cooks, and if he keeps his back turned on the empty house, he can almost pretend that Ben’s sitting at the table with a bottle of beer as he listens to Peter chatter on about his day.

(No one listens to him now, but he’s growing used to filling in empty spaces.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that I hate this story. I wrote the beginning part of it, and got frustrated because I realized I should have ended the first chapter with the beginning of this one. And then nothing after that seemed to flow.
> 
> It's partially my fault, because I have a bad habit of not planning my long stories at all. I literally just wing it, and it's so bad. I couldn't make this the way I wanted, so I'll probably take some time to make an actual outline for each chapter. If you have any ideas or things you want to see, comment down below or message me on tumblr @the-great-escapism. Also, if you have any nicknames for Tony, submit those too, and I'll give you credit if I use them!
> 
> Thank you all for the support, and I'm genuinely so sorry for the disappointment. I've been so stressed and discouraged with finals coming up, and I really... I don't know. I'm sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my worst writing ever. I am so sorry.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to lireleslivres, who came back and left me the nicest comment, encouraging me to continue, and I just so happened to get a spark of inspiration. Thank you so much for your kind words.

Lunch time used to be Peter’s favorite time of the day.

This year, he hates it. He hates how he feels as he walks through the cafeteria and the looks of pity that people shoot his way, or the determination with which others avoid his eyes. Especially Flash.

In some sick way, Peter would almost prefer it if Flash went back to giving him a hard time. That, at least, would be familiar, some sort of indicator that his world isn’t completely changed now that Ben’s gone.

Peter just wants an axis to steady his world, a new equilibrium. He hasn’t found it yet.

He’s already gotten his tray, despite having no appetite, and is headed to their usual table when he gets a text from MJ.

_hey bitch. come to Stark’s room. we’re going over one of the problems from yesterday._

Peter shrugs, taking note of the empty table. Well, he sure as hell isn’t going to sit here alone. He quickly makes his way to the Mathematics wing and finds the door already open. He hesitantly peeks inside, irrationally worried that MJ and Ned aren’t there.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Ned and MJ at the white board while Tony walks them through the equation. The man looks up and smiles.

“Peter! Come to join the party, have you?” Tony asks in greeting.

Peter looks around the room, sitting in a desk at the front, and gives Tony a disbelieving look. “You call this party? It’s pretty dry, if I do say so myself.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him before brightening. “Ah ha! Music. That’s what we’re missing.”

“Now we’re talkin’!” Peter jokes, and Tony takes out his phone.

“What’ll it be? What do you kids even listen to these days? Jonas brothers?” Tony asks, and MJ screws her face up in distaste.

“Jesus, you’re old,” she mutters, and Tony gives her an offended look while Peter and Ned laugh.

“Now that’s rude.”

MJ rolls her eyes. “No one’s listened to the Jonas brothers in, like, ten years.”

“Okay, fine,” Tony says. “What do _you_ listen to, then?”

“Movie scores,” she replies, and Tony tilts his head in thought.

“Favorite one?”

“Into the Spider-verse,” MJ tells him without hesitation, and Peter nods in agreement.

“Ohhh, that’s a good one,” he comments.

“Okay,” Tony says, nodding to himself. “I can get behind that. Stellar movie. Ten out of ten. FRIDAY, play the movie score for _Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse_ ,” Tony commands, and a feminine voice repeats the instructions before beginning to play it.

“FRIDAY?” Ned asks. “Is it not Siri?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony says with an affronted look. “God. No, FRIDAY is the AI programmed into my phone.”

Ned’s eyes widen, impressed, and Peter feels like that piece of information is significant. Then, his eyes widen as he realizes.

“Wait a whole hot second!” he gasps. “You’re _that_ Tony Stark? As in, married to Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries?”

Tony smirks. “You know, for a bunch of gifted students, you guys are remarkably unobservative. The only other person who figured it out is MJ,” he says, nodding at the girl, who looks at them smugly, and Peter gives her an accusing glare.

“You knew that our fucking – oh, shit, sorry, sir – fuck, wait – oh no…” Peter trails off, turning red as Tony watches him in amusement.

“You’re fine, kid. I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t mind cursing in this classroom. Don’t go around doing it in front of other teachers – it’s not professional, but I personally don’t care. Plus, if I banned it, I’d have to stop cursing, too, and that’s just no fucking fun,” he tells them.

Peter nods, still looking a little embarrassed. “Got it, sir. Anyway,” he continues, turning back to MJ, “I can’t believe you knew our Calculus teacher is _the_ Tony Stark, who’s made bigger strides in Artificial Intelligence than literally anyone, and you didn’t say anything!”

“That’s because I knew you’d start acting like _this,_ ” she huffs, waving her hand at Ned, who’s completely frozen in awe.

“Holy shit,” Ned whispers. “My math teacher is Tony Stark.”

“You think he’s broken?” MJ asks Tony curiously, and Tony tilts his head.

“I don’t know, let’s see.” He runs to his desk and picks up a packet with various equations on it. “Ned, do this packet for extra practice tonight.”

Ned quickly takes the paper, looking dazed. “Anything for a genius.”

Peter groans. “Oh my god, you broke him,” Peter glares jokingly at Tony, who merely laughs.

“Eh, he’ll snap out of it. I’m not even particularly involved with the company anymore. That’s all Pepper,” he tells them. “Hence me being a high school teacher.”

“Wait, so why a high school teacher?” Peter prompts. “You’re a billionaire – you could do literally anything. Why this?” Tony just shrugs, leaning back to sit on the edge of his desk.

“It’s a nice change of pace. My desire to learn and create really sparked when I was around your age, so I wanted to be somewhere I could possibly help ignite that same spark in other young minds. Also, it’s a good way to scout for future employees,” Tony muses.

“That’s actually… really smart,” MJ comments, and Tony smiles wryly.

“I’ve been known to have a good idea or two,” he says dryly. “Anyway,” he points at Peter, who tenses at the suddenly intense scrutiny. “Eat. You haven’t even touched your lunch,” Tony says pointedly.

Peter looks distastefully at the lasagna on his tray. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What’d you have for breakfast this morning?”

Peter looks down, tugging anxiously at his sleeves. Truth is, he never seems to be hungry anymore. There’s an emptiness inside of him that can’t be filled by food, that gnaws at his stomach and steals his appetite. But he can’t exactly _say_ that.

Tony nods to himself, taking Peter’s silence as an answer. Peter watches nervously as Tony steps behind his desk and rifles through a drawer before coming to a stop in front of Peter’s desk.

“Here,” the man says, holding a Clif bar out in front of him. “If you can’t eat a meal, nibble on this. I want it gone by the end of class today, got it?” he asks, giving Peter a serious look.

Peter slowly takes the bar from him and peels back the wrapping. “Thank you, sir,” he says quietly. There’s something unnerving about Tony’s gaze, like he’s looking straight through him to where pressing grief erodes at him from the inside. He looks away from the piercing look.

“Hey,” Tony beckons, getting Peter to look up at him again. “I’m not trying to be a controlling asshole. Food is important, whether you want it or not. You can’t reach your full potential if your body can’t function the way it’s meant to. This is speaking from experience.”

Peter nods, feeling embarrassed. Behind Tony, MJ and Ned are working out a problem on the board, giving them as much privacy as they can. He’s suddenly very grateful for his friends.

The bell rings, then, and the spell is broken. Tony gives him one last reassuring nod, and then turns to greet the students shuffling in.

Peter thinks that maybe lunch time won’t be so bad anymore.

-

That night, Peter googles Tony Stark. He scrolls past the long list of achievements and information about his company to the section about his personal life. He scans it quickly and sucks in a sharp breath, heart constricting in his chest.

_Maria and Howard Stark were killed in a car crash, their son a teenager in high school at the time._

As Peter stares at the words, all he can think is, _I’m not the only one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this absolutely sucked. I've decided that this is going to be my leisure fic. I'll update at random, sporadic times whenever I get inspiration, and I'll be writing this purely for fun. It's nothing formal or poetic like my usual fics, and I won't be focusing on the words and writing as much as the plot, if that makes sense. I'm so sorry if this disappoints, or if the writing is so bad that it makes the story hard to read.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and support, and I know this is ridiculously unfair to you guys. I love y'all so much. As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and serve as great incentive to keep going, and you can always come harass me on tumblr @the-great-escapism.


End file.
